“I see the pointer,” she said. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. It was as if he could smell it on her. “Lord!” she said. ’ ‘You mean the bookroom, miss.
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